Poem by William Blake

Songs of Experience. Holy Thursday

Is this a holy thing to see.
In a rich and fruitful land.
Babes reduced to misery.
Fed with cold and usurous hand?

Is that trembling cry a song?
Can it be a song of joy?
And so many children poor?
It is a land of poverty!

And their sun does never shine.
And their fields are bleak & bare.
And their ways are fill'd with thorns
It is eternal winter there.

For where-e'er the sun does shine.
And where-e'er the rain does fall:
Babe can never hunger there,
Nor poverty the mind appall. 

1. Songs of Experience. The Little Girl Found
2. To the Accuser Who Is the God of This World
3. Songs of Experience. Nurse's Song
4. Songs of Experience. The Sick Rose
5. A Divine Image

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